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90A: Jellon Grame

 90A.1	O JELLON GRAME sat in Silver Wood,
 	He whistled and he sang,
 	And he has calld his little foot-page,
 	His errand for to gang.
 90A.2	‘Win up, my bonny boy,’ he says,
 	‘As quick as eer you may;
 	For ye maun gang for Lillie Flower,
 	Before the break of day.’
 90A.3	The boy he’s buckled his belt about,
 	And thro the green-wood ran,
 	And he came to the ladie’s bower-door,
 	Before the day did dawn.
 90A.4	‘O sleep ye, or wake ye, Lillie Flower?
 	The red run’s i the rain:’
 	‘I sleep not aft, I wake right aft;
 	Wha’s that that kens my name?’
 90A.5	‘Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood,
 	But I fear you’ll never win hame;
 	Ye are bidden come to Silver Wood,
 	And speak wi Jellon Grame.’
 90A.6	‘O I will gang to Silver Wood,
 	Though I shoud never win hame;
 	For the thing I most desire on earth
 	Is to speak wi Jellon Grame.’
 90A.7	She had no ridden a mile, a mile,
 	A mile but barely three,
 	Ere she came to a new made grave,
 	Beneath a green oak tree.
 90A.8	O then up started Jellon Grame,
 	Out of a bush hard bye:
 	‘Light down, light down now, Lillie Flower,
 	For it’s here that ye maun ly.’
 90A.9	She lighted aff her milk-white steed,
 	And knelt upon her knee:
 	‘O mercy, mercy, Jellon Grame!
 	For I’m nae prepar’d to die.
 90A.10	‘Your bairn, that stirs between my sides,
 	Maun shortly see the light;
 	But to see it weltring in my blude
 	Woud be a piteous sight.’
 90A.11	‘O shoud I spare your life,’ he says,
 	‘Until that bairn be born,
 	I ken fu well your stern father
 	Woud hang me on the morn.’
 90A.12	‘O spare my life now, Jellon Grame!
 	My father ye neer need dread;
 	I’ll keep my bairn i the good green wood,
 	Or wi it I’ll beg my bread.’
 90A.13	He took nae pity on that ladie,
 	Tho she for life did pray;
 	But pierced her thro the fair body,
 	As at his feet she lay.
 90A.14	He felt nae pity for that ladie,
 	Tho she was lying dead;
 	But he felt some for the bonny boy,
 	Lay weltring in her blude.
 90A.15	Up has he taen that bonny boy,
 	Gien him to nurices nine,
 	Three to wake, and three to sleep,
 	And three to go between.
 90A.16	And he’s brought up that bonny boy,
 	Calld him his sister’s son;
 	He thought nae man would eer find out
 	The deed that he had done.
 90A.17	But it sae fell out upon a time,
 	As a hunting they did gay,
 	That they rested them in Silver Wood,
 	Upon a summer-day.
 90A.18	Then out it spake that bonny boy,
 	While the tear stood in his eye,
 	‘O tell me this now, Jellon Grame,
 	And I pray you dinna lie.
 90A.19	‘The reason that my mother dear
 	Does never take me hame?
 	To keep me still in banishment
 	Is baith a sin and shame.’
 90A.20	‘You wonder that your mother dear
 	Does never send for thee;
 	Lo, there’s the place I slew thy mother,
 	Beneath that green oak tree.’
 90A.21	Wi that the boy has bent his bow,
 	It was baith stout and lang,
 	And through and thro him Jellon Grame
 	He’s gard an arrow gang.
 90A.22	Says, Lye you thare now, Jellon Grame,
 	My mellison you wi;
 	The place my mother lies buried in
 	Is far too good for thee.

90B: Jellon Grame

 90B.1	WORD has come to May Margerie,
 	In her bower where she sat:
 	‘You are bid come to good green-wood,
 	To make your love a shirt.’
 90B.2	‘I wonder much,’ said May Margerie,
 	‘At this message to me;
 	There is not a month gone of this year
 	But I have made him three.’
 90B.3	Then out did speak her mother dear,
 	A wise woman was she;
 	Said, Stay at home, my daughter May,
 	They seek to murder thee.
 90B.4	‘O I’ll cast off my gloves, mother,
 	And hang them up, I say;
 	If I come never back again,
 	They will mind you on May.
 90B.5	‘Go saddle my horseback,’ she said,
 	‘It’s quick as ever you may,
 	And we will ride to good green-wood;
 	It is a pleasant day.’
 90B.6	And when she came to good green-wood,
 	It’s through it they did ride;
 	Then up did start him Hind Henry,
 	Just at the lady’s side.
 90B.7	Says, Stop, O stop, you May Margerie,
 	Just stop I say to thee;
 	The boy that leads your bridle reins
 	Shall see you red and blue.
 90B.8	It’s out he drew a long, long brand,
 	And stroked it ower a strae,
 	And through and through that lady’s sides
 	He made the cauld weapon gae.
 90B.9	Says, Take you that now, May Margerie,
 	Just take you that from me,
 	Because you love Brown Robin,
 	And never would love me.
 90B.10	There was less pity for that lady,
 	When she was lying dead,
 	As was for her bony infant boy,
 	Lay swathed amang her bleed.
 90B.11	The boy fled home with all his might,
 	The tear into his ee:
 	‘They have slain my lady in the wood,
 	With fear I’m like to die.’
 90B.12	Her sister’s ran into the wood,
 	With greater grief and care,
 	Sighing and sobbing all the way,
 	Tearing her cloaths and hair.
 90B.13	Says, I’ll take up that fair infant,
 	And lull him on my sleeve;
 	Altho his father should wish me woe,
 	His mother to me was leeve.
 90B.14	Now she has taken the infant up,
 	And she has brought him hame,
 	And she has called him Brown Robin,
 	That was his father’s name.
 90B.15	And when he did grow up a bit,
 	She put him to the lair,
 	And of all the youths was at that school
 	None could with him compare.
 90B.16	And it fell once upon a day
 	A playtime it was come,
 	And when the rest went from the school,
 	Each one to their own home,
 90B.17	He hied him unto good green-wood,
 	And leapt from tree to tree;
 	It was to pull a hollin wand,
 	To play his ownself wi.
 90B.18	And when he thus had passed his time,
 	To go home he was fain,
 	He chanced to meet him Hind Henry,
 	Where his mother was slain.
 90B.19	‘O how is this,’ the youth cried out,
 	‘If it to you is known,
 	How all this wood is growing grass,
 	And on that small spot grows none?’
 90B.20	‘Since you do wonder, bonnie boy,
 	I shall tell you anon;
 	That is indeed the very spot
 	I killed your mother in.’
 90B.21	He catched hold of Henry’s brand,
 	And stroked it ower a strae,
 	And thro and thro Hind Henry’s sides
 	He made the cauld metal gae.
 90B.22	Says, Take you that, O Hind Henry,
 	O take you that from me,
 	For killing of my mother dear,
 	And her not hurting thee.

90C: Jellon Grame

 90C.1	WHEN spring appeard in all its bloom,
 	And flowers grew fresh and green,
 	As May-a-Roe she set her down,
 	To lay gowd on her seam.
 90C.2	But word has come to that lady,
 	At evening when ’twas dark,
 	To meet her love in gude greenwood,
 	And bring to him a sark.
 90C.3	‘That’s strange to me,’ said May-a-Roe,
 	‘For how can a’ this be?
 	A month or twa is scarcely past
 	Sin I sent my lovie three.’
 90C.4	Then May-a-Roe lap on her steed,
 	And quickly rade away;
 	She hadna ridden but hauf a mile,
 	Till she heard a voice to say:
 90C.5	‘Turn back, turn back, ye ventrous maid,
 	Nae farther must ye go;
 	For the boy that leads your bridle rein
 	Leads you to your overthrow.’
 90C.6	But a’ these words she neer did mind,
 	But fast awa did ride;
 	And up it starts him Hynde Henry,
 	Just fair by her right side.
 90C.7	‘Ye’ll tarry here, perfidious maid,
 	For by my hand ye’se dee;
 	Ye married my brother, Brown Robin,
 	Whan ye shoud hae married me.’
 90C.8	‘O mercy, mercy, Hynde Henry,
 	O mercy have on me!
 	For I am eight months gane wi child,
 	Therefore ye’ll lat me be.’
 90C.9	‘Nae mercy is for thee, fair maid,
 	Nae mercy is for thee;
 	You married my brother, Brown Robin,
 	Whan ye shoud hae married me.’
 90C.10	‘Ye will bring here the bread, Henry,
 	And I will bring the wine,
 	And ye will drink to your ain love,
 	And I will drink to mine.’
 90C.11	‘I winna bring here the bread, fair maid,
 	Nor yet shall ye the wine,
 	Nor will I drink to my ain love,
 	Nor yet shall ye to thine.’
 90C.12	‘O mercy, mercy, Hynde Henry,
 	Until I lighter be!
 	Hae mercy on your brother’s bairn,
 	Tho ye hae nane for me.’
 90C.13	‘Nae mercy is for thee, fair maid,
 	Nae mercy is for thee;
 	Such mercy unto you I’ll gie
 	As what ye gae to me.’
 90C.14	Then he’s taen out a trusty brand,
 	And stroakd it ower a strae,
 	And thro and thro her fair body
 	He’s gart cauld iron gae.
 90C.15	Nae meen was made for that lady,
 	For she was lying dead;
 	But a’ was for her bonny bairn,
 	Lay spartling by her side.
 90C.16	Then he’s taen up the bonny bairn,
 	Handled him tenderlie,
 	And said, Ye are o my ain kin,
 	Tho your mother ill used me.
 90C.17	He’s washen him at the crystal stream,
 	And rowd him in a weed,
 	And namd him after a bold robber
 	Who was calld Robin Hood.
 90C.18	Then brought to the next borough’s town,
 	And gae him nurses three;
 	He grew as big in ae year auld
 	As some boys woud in three.
 90C.19	Then he was sent to guid squeel-house,
 	To learn how to thrive;
 	He learnd as muckle in ae year’s time
 	As some Boys would in five.
 90C.20	‘But I wonder, I wonder,’ said little Robin,
 	‘Gin eer a woman bare me;
 	For mony a lady spiers for the rest,
 	But nae ane spiers for me.
 90C.21	‘I wonder, I wonder,’ said little Robin,
 	‘Were I of woman born;
 	Whan ladies my comrades do caress,
 	They look at me wi scorn.’
 90C.22	It fell upon an evening-tide,
 	Was ae night by it lane,
 	Whan a’ the boys frae guid squeel-house
 	Were merrily coming hame,
 90C.23	Robin parted frae the rest,
 	He wishd to be alane;
 	And when his comrades he dismist,
 	To guid greenwood he’s gane.
 90C.24	When he came to guid greenwood,
 	He clamb frae tree to tree,
 	To pou some o the finest leaves,
 	Ffor to divert him wi.
 90C.25	He hadna pu’d a leaf, a leaf,
 	Nor brake a branch but ane,
 	Till by it came him Hynde Henry,
 	And bade him lat alane.
 90C.26	‘You are too bauld a boy,’ he said,
 	‘Sae impudent you be,
 	As pu the leaves that’s nae your ain,
 	Or yet to touch the tree.’
 90C.27	‘O mercy, mercy, gentleman,
 	O mercy hae on me!
 	For if that I offence hae done,
 	It was unknown to me.’
 90C.28	‘Nae boy comes here to guid greenwood
 	But pays a fine to me;
 	Your velvet coat, or shooting-bow,
 	Which o them will ye gie?’
 90C.29	‘My shooting-bow arches sae well,
 	Wi it I canno part;
 	Lest wer’t to send a sharp arrow
 	To pierce you to the heart.’
 90C.30	He turnd him right and round about,
 	His countenance did change:
 	‘Ye seem to be a boy right bauld;
 	Why can ye talk sae strange?
 90C.31	‘I’m sure ye are the bauldest boy
 	That ever I talkd wi;
 	As for your mother, May-a-Roe,
 	She was neer sae bauld to me.’
 90C.32	‘O, if ye knew my mother,’ he said,
 	‘That’s very strange to me;
 	And if that ye my mother knew,
 	It’s mair than I coud dee.’
 90C.33	‘Sae well as I your mother knew,
 	Ance my sweet-heart was she;
 	Because to me she broke her vow,
 	This maid was slain by me.’
 90C.34	‘O, if ye slew my mother dear,
 	As I trust ye make nae lie,
 	I wyte ye never did the deed
 	That better paid shall be.’
 90C.35	‘O mercy, mercy, little Robin,
 	O mercy hae on me!’
 	‘Sic mercy as ye pae my mother,
 	Sic mercy I’ll gie thee.
 90C.36	‘Prepare yourself, perfidious man,
 	For by my hand ye’se dee;
 	Now come’s that bluidy butcher’s end
 	Took my mother frae me.’
 90C.37	Then he hae chosen a sharp arrow,
 	That was baith keen and smart,
 	And let it fly at Hynde Henry,
 	And piercd him to the heart.
 90C.38	These news hae gaen thro Stirling town,
 	Likewise thro Hunting-ha;
 	At last it reachd the king’s own court,
 	Amang the nobles a’.
 90C.39	When the king got word o that,
 	A light laugh then gae he,
 	And he’s sent for him little Robin,
 	To come right speedilie.
 90C.40	He’s putten on little Robin’s head
 	A ribbon and gowden crown,
 	And made him ane o’s finest knights,
 	For the valour he had done.

90D: Jellon Grame

 90D.1	* * * *
 	D’YE mind, d’ye mind, Lady Margerie,
 	When we handed round the beer?
 	Seven times I fainted for your sake,
 	And you never dropt a tear.
 90D.2	‘D’ye mind, d’ye mind, Lady Margerie,
 	When we handed round the wine?
 	Seven times I fainted for your sake,
 	And you never fainted once for mine.’
 	* * * * *
 90D.3	And he’s taen the baby out of her womb
 	And thrown it upon a thorn:
 	‘Let the wind blow east, let the wind blow west,
 	The cradle will rock its lone.’
 	* * * * *
 90D.4	But when brother Henry’s cruel brand
 	Had done the bloody deed,
 	The silver-buttons flew off his coat,
 	And his nose began to bleed.
 	* * * * *
 90D.5	‘O I have been killing in the silver wood
 	What will breed mickle woe;
 	I have been killing in the silver wood
 	A dawdy and a doe.’
 	* * * * *

Next: 91. Fair Mary of Wallington